Belonging to the Truth -- FPC sermon excerpt

What is truth?

That’s the question that Pontius Pilate asks Jesus, before sentencing him to death. Jesus has been brought to Pilate, the Roman governor, because only the Roman Empire can perform an execution. The Jewish priests want Jesus to die, but they don’t have the authority to kill him.

So they drag him to Pilate. The governor asks Jesus, “Are you the King of the Jews?” (John 18:33). This is the only thing that Pilate cares about, because a Jewish king would be a threat to Roman authority. If Jesus says “yes,” then he’ll be convicted of treason against the Roman emperor, and given an instant death sentence.

But Jesus is way too smart to respond with a simple yeah or nay. Like an experienced trial lawyer, Jesus says, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” (v. 34). He wants to know if Pilate has personal knowledge of his kingship, or if he is relying on the hearsay evidence of the Jewish priests. His response serves to undermine the validity of Pilate’s question.

The governor replies with an edge in his voice: “I am not a Jew, am I?” Pilate wants to distance himself from this whole messy affair, and stand above the squabbles of the bothersome Jewish inhabitants of the land. This is a Jewish problem, he seems to be saying — nothing that he wants get involved in. And yet he has a job as governor, one that requires him to administer justice. “What have you done?” he asks Jesus (v. 35).

Once again, Jesus refuses to give a straight answer. “My kingdom is not from this world,” he explains. “If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here” (v. 36). Jesus hints that he may be a king, since he speaks of his kingdom, but he does not describe a kingdom that would fit any Roman understanding. There are no soldiers, armies, or lawyers fighting for his freedom, which would certainly be the case if he were the head of an earthly kingdom. In the Roman world, kingdoms were defined by armies and laws, and justice was enforced by the exercise of power.

Pilate hears part of what Jesus is saying, the part about his kingdom. “So you are a king?” he asks him.

But Jesus dodges again. “You say that I am a king,” he says. “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” (v. 37). Although most kings would describe their mission as leading armies, collecting taxes, punishing criminals, and expanding the economy, Jesus says that he has come to “testify to the truth.” And while most kings expect their subjects to obey their commands, Jesus describes his followers as who people who belong to the truth and listen to his voice.

Jesus has not come to take the world by force. Instead, he has come to invite people to enter into a relationship with him, by listening to his voice and belonging to the truth.

All of which leads to the obvious question from Pilate, “What is truth?” (v. 38).

I think it is an honest question. Sure, Pilate is getting fed up with Jesus, but he is enough of a Roman philosopher to wonder about the nature of truth. He really wants to know, “What is truth? Tell me, Jesus.”

And what does Jesus say? Nothing. He just stands there. And I think his silence is his answer to the question. He is saying to Pilate, “Look at me. I am truth. I am the way, the truth, and the life. Follow me, and I’ll show you the path to abundant life.”

But Pilate doesn’t get it. Sadly, he turns away, and goes in another direction. The wheels of Roman justice continue to turn, and Jesus is flogged, mocked, and put to death on a cross.

What we are left with is the question, “What is truth?” This passage teaches us that truth is not a statement, a proposition, a concept, or a school of thought — that’s the kind of truth that a Roman philosopher would understand. Instead, truth is a person — a person named Jesus — and we are all invited to enter into a relationship with this Jesus who is the truth. For Jesus, truth is never merely something that is thought; instead it is felt, acted out, and embraced in all of life. This is the kind of truth that you don’t just think about, you belong to it. It is a way of life. That’s why Jesus says, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

How to Provoke One Another -- FPC sermon excerpt

The Letter to the Hebrews says, “provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching” (10:24-25). Hebrews knows that one of the dangers of Christianity is that it will become a very individualistic religion, one which is focused entirely on having a personal relationship with Jesus.

A personal relationship is not enough. “Provoke one another to love and good deeds,” says the letter. Don’t neglect to meet together. Encourage one another. The relationship between Christians, one to another, is every bit as important as the relationship between individual Christians and Jesus.

Some of the most exciting things I discovered on sabbatical had to do with the ways in which healthy churches gather people together to encourage one another, and to provoke one another to love and good deeds. Every healthy congregation that I visited showed me some creative ways to gather people in small groups for this challenging and important work.

At Saddleback Church in California, pastor Rick Warren offers a sermon series every fall, and I happened to be present when he launched this year’s series on healing. What I found interesting was that he said that his sermons were not enough. No, to really benefit from the series, members of Saddleback had to join small groups, and then gather together during the week to discuss the topic of healing together. The church makes it very easy to join a small group — all you have to do is go outside of the Sanctuary and sign up for one of the thousands of small groups that were being launched the week I was there.

Yes, you heard right: I said thousands of small groups, in houses throughout Orange County. You’ve got to have that many groups if you are going to include the 20,000 people who come to worship at Saddleback every weekend.

At the Reconciliation Parish in Germany, I talked with a pastor named Manfred Fischer, who serves a congregation that was divided by the Berlin Wall. In 1985, he watched his church building get blown up by the East German government, and then four years later he watched the Berlin Wall come down. Since the fall of the wall, exactly 20 years ago, Reconciliation Parish has opened itself for community discussions, and has become a place for discussing the significance of the wall.

The congregation has also hosted conversations between former members of the East German Secret Police and their victims, conversations aimed at releasing emotions in a controlled and productive way. Manfred has found that “victims are keen to forgive, and willing.” But first there needs to be an honest and open word, such as, “I am sorry. I acted in a wrong way.”

He says that in East Germany, people were punished for speaking openly, and they are still suffering from speaking out — they lost education and jobs. So speaking openly, and admitting that there was a problem, is very difficult for many who did wrong. He saw this same problem with the Second World War generation, people who did not want to discuss their history under Hitler.

Where do these honest and open words get spoken? Not surprisingly, they are spoken in small groups. That’s where apologies can be offered, and reconciliation can happen. That’s where people can be provoked to love and to good deeds.

I saw the same kinds of small-group gatherings at the Washington National Cathedral and at other churches in the DC area, and I was inspired by them. As a result, we’ll be doing something similar at FPC. During the season of Lent, Jessica and I will be offering a sermon series, and we’ll be inviting each of you to join a small group that will be discussing the series topic during the week. Some groups will meet here at FPC on Sunday mornings, others will be meeting in the church or in homes during the week. There will be at least 15 groups beginning on February the 21st, so there will be room for everyone, and I’m sure that you’ll find that at least one offers you a convenient place and time.

By the way, February the 21st will be my 50th birthday. The best present you could give me would be to join a group. Of course, it won’t really be a gift to me — it will be a gift to yourself.

Being provoked by the cross of Jesus is just the beginning of the Christian journey. It is the first step, not the last. It is only by meeting together and encouraging one another that we can grow in faith, in understanding, and in service to the world around us. It is in small groups that we can really provoke one another — not to anger and resentment, but to love and good deeds.

The Cow-Friendly Christ -- FPC sermon excerpt

Farm animals and golf.

That’s what interested my children about Scotland, when we got on the plane to begin my sabbatical. They wanted to get up close to cows and sheep, and play some golf in the country where the game began.

I had no idea how I was going to make that happen. But God is good. When we checked into our hotel on the Isle of Iona, a rugged rock just off the west coast of Scotland, the owner said, “We have an 18-hole golf course on the island, and you can borrow our clubs and play it for free. But I have to warn you. It is maintained by cows and sheep.”

He wasn’t kidding. The farmers let their animals graze the course, and keep the grass trimmed. The animals keep it well fertilized, also. So Sam and Sadie played golf in Scotland, and were able to pet some cows and sheep along the way.

Did you know that cows produce more milk when farmers know them by name? Yes, it’s true. If you call a cow by name, she will give you more milk. Show a little kindness and a personal touch, and she’ll be more productive.

Perhaps the same is true for us.

A new study out of England, reported in USA TODAY (February 5, 2009), reveals that affectionate treatment of cattle — including the giving of names to cows — can increase the amount of milk they give. The average cow produces about 2,000 gallons of milk a year, but if you know her by name, she’ll give you an extra 68 gallons.

I believe that there is a message here for the church. So I am going to milk this study for all it’s worth.

Cow-friendly farmers name their cows and make contact with them from an early age. This reduces the cow’s stress, and increases milk production. These farmers chat to them in passing, says the researcher in the English study. “They walk amongst the cows and speak with them.”

“A cow that is happy and calm is going to produce more milk.” So says Jon Bansen, the owner and operator of an organic dairy farm. He is convinced that naming a cow, combined with really understanding the animals and their behavior, is going to increase milk production.

So cows that are known by name are going to be happy, calm, and productive. Anonymous cattle are going to be stressed and unproductive.

This makes sense, doesn’t it? And God knows that the same applies to us.

The letter to the Hebrews says that “Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son” (1:1-2). God sent Jesus to walk among us and speak to us, to show us God’s will and God’s way by being in relationship with us. Jesus “is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word” (v. 3).

That sounds a great deal like the first chapter of the Gospel of John, doesn’t it? “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. … And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (1:1, 14).

God has spoken to us by a Son. He sustains all things by his powerful word. The Word became flesh and lived among us. Not distant, but with us. Not silent, but speaking to us. Not harsh, but full of grace and truth.

If cow-friendly farmers walk amongst the cows and speak with them, then it sounds as though we have a Cow-Friendly Christ. And like it or not, we are the cows.

Coram Deo -- FPC sermon excerpt

When I left three months ago, I said that I wanted to rest, relax, and decompose a bit — decompose so that I could become more fertile in my ministry. Well, I’m happy to say that I have decomposed.

Whether I have become more fertile remains to be seen.

On my sabbatical, I visited a number of churches that are trying, as we are, to embrace “all people with God’s love and grace.” They are congregations that do an excellent job of welcoming people with true hospitality, and then doing the work of reconciliation — building a united congregation in a very fractured and polarized world.

This is what we need to do at FPC, if we’re going to become — as it says on our wall — “a house of prayer for all peoples” (Isaiah 56:7). And the good news is, I think we can.

One thing I discovered about all of these hospitable congregations is that they gather people around food and drink. I found that it is when people share a meal that they become close to each other, and close to God.

We see this in today’s Scripture lesson from Isaiah, in which the prophet says that “the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines.” The LORD is showing us hospitality in this passage, and gathering us and all the people of the world together in a marvelous feast. “Then the LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth” (25:6, 8).

Isn’t that an amazing vision? God becomes our host, and gathers us together for food and drink. God comes close to us, wipes the tears from our faces, and removes our disgrace. The passage also says that God will destroy “the shroud” that is cast over all people, and will “swallow up death forever” (vv. 7-8).

It is at this feast that we become close to God and to one another. It is when we eat and drink together that we are living coram Deo — an ancient Latin phrase which means “before the face of God” or “in the presence of God.”

Coram Deo — in the presence of God. That is what I was looking for on sabbatical, and that is what most of us are looking for in a church. I found that churches that practice hospitality are coram Deo churches — they help people to have an experience of living in the presence of God.

An example: Saddleback Church in California has put up a new building called The Refinery, with several restaurants and snack bars, as well as a skate park, volleyball court, and waterfall where kids can splash around. No kidding. It’s like a Christian theme park.

But I give them credit — they do hospitality well. One of the pastors, Erik Rees, tries to look at the campus with the eyes of a visitor, and make sure that a first-timer feels relaxed and comfortable. Everyone gets at least three welcomes on their way to the worship center, and new members are given a full dinner as part of their membership class. The Refinery and its surroundings give people a place to sit, eat, and develop relationships. In a fast-paced world, says Erik, all of this “gives people permission to slow down.”

At Saddleback, you find yourself coram Deo — in the presence of God.

When a church practices hospitality, people of different backgrounds are invited to sit and have conversation over a meal or a drink. The focus is on friendship and the development of relationships, which help people to learn about each other and develop bonds — in spite of their differences. “Through hospitality we discover the ways we are both alike and different,” says Christine Pohl, who wrote one of the best books I read while on sabbatical. “When we welcome other people into our lives,” she says, “we create space in which each person’s gifts and insights can be shared.”

God knows this, which is why the great gathering in today’s passage from Isaiah is not in a lecture hall or even in a Sanctuary. It’s on a mountain, around picnic tables, “a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines.” When we gather around tables, we are coram Deo — in the presence of God.

I have discovered that hospitality can accomplish what theological discussion and debate cannot: it can build a diverse community and move people toward reconciliation. Theology tends to divide people, as does politics and music, but a shared meal can unite people at the level of a basic human need — food and drink. Perhaps the clearest path to unity is through the stomach.